


Courage of stars

by justhockey



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Caring Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Communication Failure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fear, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Insecure Evan "Buck" Buckley, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, Trauma, Tsunami (9-1-1 TV), Worried Eddie Diaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:49:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: Everything hurts and it’s so hard to be brave when you have a gun pointing at your head, when every time you close your eyes there’s a bomb, or a ladder truck, or a tsunami, orsomething.OrFive times Buck is brave, and one time he doesn’t have to be.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 626
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Courage of stars

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Saturn_ by Sleeping at Last.

**I**

In the movies, when something dangerous or traumatic or catastrophic happens, it all seems to take place in slow motion, like time stretches out eternally as realisation and fear hits. That’s not what happens in real life. In real life it’s sudden and instant, there’s no time to process or plan, it just hits you like a brick wall.

Buck doesn’t have time to think when he sees the water rushing towards them, he just grabs Christopher and runs. 

And then they’re underwater and he’s holding onto Chris for dear life, knows that he’s gonna leave bruises on the poor kids arm but he’d rather that than let the water sweep him away. He can feel his lungs burning with the need to breathe and he can taste the bitterness of the salt water he’s already swallowed - his head feels fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and he grabs Chris even tighter. 

He’s suddenly, blindingly terrified. 

Then his head breaks the surface and he gasps for breath, pulls Christopher up beside him and holds him above the water. Buck can feel Christopher trembling, with cold and with fear, and he knows instantly that he doesn’t have time to be afraid. Chris needs him, he needs Buck to brave, and he’s already let the kid down so many times before, this isn’t about to be another one of those times. 

So he gets Christopher up on the fire truck where he’s safest, presses a kiss to his forehead before going back into the water to get more people out. He knows Chris is scared, knows everyone else is too, so Buck swallows down his own panic and keeps going - keeps trying. 

Buck is used to the odd body or two, has pulled them out of fires and car accidents and disasters, but this is something else even for him. When he hears the panicked cries of the others on the truck, when he sees the bodies floating past, he knows he needs to protect Christopher from this reality. 

“I spy with my little eye, something that is high,” Buck says. 

“A street sign?” Chris asks, still somehow smiling after everything. 

Because that’s exactly who Chris is. He’s braver than anyone Buck has ever known, the way he keeps going even after everything he’s been through, how he keeps fighting when even most adults would want to give up. He’s a tough kid, raised by a tough dad, and sometimes Buck still can’t believe that he gets to be a part of their lives, even if only a small one. 

“Even higher than that, buddy,” Buck tells him, desperate for Chris to look anywhere other than down into the water. 

And it hits somewhere deep in Buck’s chest when Christopher says, “You saved me.”

Buck knows that isn’t true though, not really. Because if it weren’t for Christopher then Buck wouldn’t have found the strength to be brave, so he thanks him right back and hugs him tightly because it’s okay, they’re okay. 

Until the second wave comes and rips Christopher from his arms, and when he reaches out he can’t grab him, he can’t find him this time. And he feels sick, so shaken he can barely stand, but Christopher is alone and he’s afraid, and he needs Buck. 

He needs Buck, so Buck is gonna be there for him, he’s gonna find him and take him home to Eddie, even if it’s the last thing he ever manages to do. Even if Eddie will never forgive him for this.

**II**

Buck can’t sleep. He can’t even close his eyes without seeing the water crashing towards them, without seeing Christopher slip out of reach, without feeling like he’s drowning all over again.

He sits at the kitchen table all night, only moves to refill his mug of coffee every time he drains it. He hasn’t spoken to Eddie yet, hasn’t even seen him since that moment Buck collapsed to the floor once he knew Christopher was finally safe. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to call, doesn’t want to see them both safe and back together, it’s just that he’s not sure he can bear what Eddie is going to say to him. He’s not ready to hear Eddie blame him for almost losing his son, isn’t sure he can handle him telling Buck to stay away from the both of them. 

So when there’s a knock at the door and he opens it to see Eddie and Chris standing there, he’s more than a little surprised. 

“Hey Buck,” Chris says as he hugs him. 

And Buck has to pretend he isn’t terrified of what’s about to happen, because Christopher has been through enough and he doesn’t need to see Buck panicking yet again.

“Okay,” Eddie begins, “there’s a morning snack, a midday snack, two colouring books, and a bunch of legos.”

Buck can’t really believe what he’s seeing, because it looks an awful lot like Eddie wants Buck to watch Christopher today and that - that can’t be what’s happening, it can’t be possible. 

“You want _me_ to watch Christopher?” Buck asks, the disbelief evident in his voice and expression. 

But Eddie is smiling and Christopher is already watching cartoons on the couch, and Buck kind of feels like he has whiplash, because this is just about the _last_ thing he expected to be happening today. 

“It’s easy, he’s not very fast,” Eddie jokes, but nothing about this feels funny to Buck. 

“I lost him, Eddie.”

“You _saved_ him, that’s how he remembers it,” Eddie tells him. “And now it’s his turn to do the same for you.”

It feels like maybe he’s in a dream - a nightmare - and any second Eddie is going to start laughing, going to take Christopher away and order Buck never to come near either of them ever again. He fell asleep at the table and he’s going to startle awake at any second, and he’ll be alone, exactly where he’s always been. 

But then Eddie is stepping close and resting his hand on Buck’s shoulder. He lets his thumb brush against the bare skin of his neck in a way that sends Buck’s heart racing, makes the tips of his fingers tingle and his head swim like he’s back underwater and desperate for breath. 

“Buck, there’s nobody in the world I trust with my son more than you,” Eddie promises him. 

It feels like too much. Too much responsibility and too much trust to give to Buck after everything, after he’s already betrayed it once before. But then Eddie is leaving and he’s alone with Christopher again, and he doesn’t know how he’s managed to earn this kind of trust from the best person he knows, but he’s really glad that he has. 

So he sits down next to Chris and his hands shake a little, because Chris is the most important person in the world to Eddie - to Buck too, really - and the kid isn’t fragile, but Buck thinks _he _probably is, actually.__

__“What do you wanna do today, buddy?” Buck asks._ _

__Because it doesn’t matter what he’s feeling, how this feels like too much pressure to not fuck up. Chris is still traumatised from what they went through yesterday and he doesn’t need Buck making it worse by being a nervous wreck. He grits his teeth and smiles through it, because that’s what Christopher deserves._ _

____

**III**

He knows it should have been him, Buck knows he should have gone down the well for the kid. He wanted to, he even _asked_ to. He has no one who needs him, not like Eddie does, but Eddie is too stubborn for his own good, and now he’s by himself down there, and Buck can’t help him - the team won’t even let him try.

The rain is coming down hard and heavy, it’s in his eyes and mouth and he feels like he can’t breathe for more reasons than just the water. Because he’s done it again, he’s let Eddie down and now he’s in danger, and Buck has to save him, he has to get him out of there before it’s too late, before the rain water fills the well pipe and he’s gone. 

They know what they have to do. They have a plan. 

Until the lightning strikes and the truck tips over, and for a split second Buck is back on that street, trapped under the ladder truck in searing agony. But then he feels the mud and the rain, and sheer terror in his chest when he looks out and sees that the entrance to the pipe is gone, that Eddie is buried under 30ft of collapsed earth.

He screams. He screams and he digs and cries, because this can’t be happening, they can’t lose Eddie - _he_ can’t lose Eddie. He has to bring him home, he has to get him back for Christopher. 

Bobby pulls him back, won’t let him go no matter how many times Buck fights to keep digging. And he knows why, knows that this isn’t helping Eddie, isn’t helping the team get him out. It’s just instinct - instinct to protect the Diaz boys, that he’s pretty certain is written into his DNA. 

Honestly, the whole evening is kind of a blur. He remembers telling Bobby they need to dig, and Bobby explaining the dozen obstacles that are in the way of that. So he remembers saying they should dig by hand, and he meant it too, even though it was impossible and ridiculous, Buck was willing to do it - willing to do anything. 

He remembers the looks the whole team were giving him, more than anything. Buck’s beyond familiar with that look, he’s worn it himself on more than one occasion, when he’s had to tell someone their loved one didn’t make it. He knows it, which is why it hurts so bad to see it on his teammates faces. 

“Wait, you all think he’s dead?” He asks. 

Buck is angry. No, he’s _furious,_ absolutely enraged that they would even consider giving up on him. 

He wants to break down - he wants to scream, and cry, and beg the universe to give Eddie back to him. But he can’t. Buck can’t give up, he can’t let the fear take over because he needs to fight for Eddie, even if no one else is willing to, even if everyone already thinks that it’s too late. 

And then suddenly, Eddie is standing in front of them. 

Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sound of Eddie’s voice, the sight of him soaking wet and filthy, but alive - god, _alive._ The sound and sight are etched into his memories, along with the bomb, and the tsunami, and the hostage situation. Something that will never leave him, not as long as he lives. 

He can still feel Eddie’s hand, too, the way he grasped at Buck as he leant on him, certain that Buck had him, that he wasn’t going to let him fall. And that trust, Eddie’s belief in him, that made Buck feel brave. 

It’s what allowed him to half carry Eddie to the ambulance, what let him wait in the hospital to make sure he really was okay, what kept his hands steady as he drove Eddie home to Christopher. And it’s what gave him the courage to smile at Christopher, to laugh and play with him like Eddie’s life _hadn’t_ been in jeopardy just hours earlier.

**IV**

The scene is utter chaos when they arrive. It’s as bad as Buck has ever seen before, maybe even worse. There are casualties and bodies everywhere, and there’s a train carriage sticking 20ft into the air with passengers still inside.

It’s hard to know where to even begin, who to go and help and who is beyond treating. There’s just so much happening everywhere, and Buck wants to help them all, wants to give everyone a fighting chance at making it home tonight. But treating the black tags would just be a waste, take precious time away from helping people who can survive this. 

So he’s making his way through the site, giving help where he can and radioing for backup when it’s beyond his capabilities. He’s doing everything he can possibly can until he’s given orders, until Bobby comes up with a plan that will help them be as effective as possible. 

But then Buck hears two voices - two achingly familiar voices that tug at very different parts of his heart. He freezes when he sees them, when he sees what’s happening right in front of his eyes. 

Because it’s Eddie - it’s Eddie, but it’s also, fuck, it’s _Abby._ She’s here, standing with Eddie, and she’s so clearly frustrated and afraid, and Buck can’t help it. It’s just that wanting to help, wanting to fix things, it’s part of who he is. 

“You were on the train?” He asks. “We need to get you checked out, we need to-“

He’s trying to pull her towards an ambulance, trying to get her some help, someone to check her over for any cuts or broken bones or damage. But she’s pulling away (and isn’t that the story of his life) and arguing, desperately trying to get back on the train. 

And when she says it - when she screams, “My fiancé,” like a part of her is missing without him, like she can’t breathe until she knows he’s safe, something in Buck feels like it snaps. 

His heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, at the sound of her voice, the look of fear in her eyes. And it’s not because he still loves her - that ship sailed long ago and someone else occupies the space she used to in his heart, even if they don’t feel the same. 

But why didn’t _she_ love _him?_ Because Buck was everything she needed him to be, he was willing to do anything and everything that she asked of him, including let her go. But he still wasn’t enough. Somehow, no matter how hard he tries, he’s never enough for anyone. 

And now she’s back in LA, standing in front of him with a ring on her finger and a missing fiancé, and Buck can feel Eddie watching him like he’s going to crack at any minute. But he can’t, of course he can’t because this is his job, and people need him, and what else can Buck do but help?

So he asks for his name, and once Buck knows who he’s looking for - Sam Egan, blonde hair, all the way in the back of the carriage - he promises Abby that he’ll bring him back to her. 

He’s not even really sure what he’s feeling as they climb up the inside of the train carriage, not sure how to answer the questions that Bobby and Eddie keep asking him. All he knows is that he needs to do this, needs to bring Sam back, for Abby and for himself, like maybe this will finally be the closure he needs, or something. 

Buck doesn’t expect Eddie to snap at him the way he does, is shocked and confused at the vitriol in his voice when he says Abby’s name - like she’s poison, even though Eddie doesn’t know her. He doesn’t have time to figure it out, either. Time is running out and Sam and the girl are both gonna die if they don’t do something now. 

So Buck refuses to let Eddie talk him out of it, refuses to let his hands shake, refuses to even let himself _think_ as he absails down the side of the train. If he thinks or feels then he’ll talk himself out of it, he’ll worry himself into being afraid, and they don’t have time for that. He has to do this, he has to because people are counting on him to fix things, to make them right, and he won’t let anyone down. Not today. 

He can barely look Abby in the eye when she thanks him, doesn’t know how to look at her and see someone that he doesn’t recognise anymore. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

And Buck can’t look at him either, doesn’t want to see that look in his eyes that says Eddie sees Buck in the same way that Abby does - almost there, just not _quite_ good enough. If he thought losing Abby was bad, it would kill him to lose Eddie. 

“What’s next?” He asks instead. 

Because he doesn’t have time to worry, not when people are counting on them.

**V**

Maddie is Buck’s favourite person in the world. The love he has for her is rivalled only by his love for Christopher, and now, this tiny little human she’s carrying inside of her.

He knows it’s cliche to say it, but Maddie really is glowing. She’s happier than she’s probably ever been in her life - a safe home, engaged to Chim, having a baby. It’s wha she deserves. 

Happiness looks good on her, it radiates out of her when Buck arrives at their apartment - she’s like a little ball of sunshine and hormones. But Buck knows his sister, and he knows that something is a little off, even if she’s trying to hide it. 

“What’s going on?” He asks once they’re sitting down. 

Maddie rolls her eyes, “Why do you always think something’s wrong?” She asks. 

Buck laughs, pokes gently at her arm. “Because I know you,” he answers. 

And her smile wavers then, and she looks younger and afraid, and Buck doesn’t know why but he does know that he has to fix it. 

“Mom and dad know,” she says, “about the baby. They’re coming next week.”

It feels like a slap to his face, like ice in his veins. 

Buck thought he’d escaped his parents when he left home, figured he’d never have to see or hear from them ever again, exactly the way he’s always wanted it to be. He knows he hasn’t controlled his facial expressions very well when Maddie reaches out a hand and laces her fingers with his. 

“I didn’t tell them, Buck, I promise. Someone back home must have seen something on Facebook and told them,” Maddie explains. 

“It’s okay,” Buck says. “How do you feel about it?”

Because it wasn’t just Buck that was hurt by their parents, Maddie was too, and he’s let so many people in her life hurt her, but he won’t let their parents do it again. He’s going to protect her this time, even if he gets hurts in the process.

“I don’t want them here,” she admits. “But it’s not like they’ll listen to me even if I tell them not to come.”

And she’s right about that, Buck knows, so he figures they’ll just have to face them together. 

“I’m scared, Buck,” she whispers as she leans her head on his shoulder. “What if I end up just like them?”

Buck knows the fear, because he’s felt it too, but Maddie is nothing like their parents and she never will be. She’s too _good,_ too kind to be anything remotely like the people that raised them. 

“You won’t,” he says, because he knows that it’s true. 

“The only example I’ve ever had of how to be a parent is them,” she explains. 

It’s not like they were evil, or even intentionally cruel, but just because they didn’t _mean_ to hurt him and Maddie, it doesn’t mean they didn’t. 

They were absent for most of their childhood, and when they _were_ around, well. They were demeaning, and controlling, and just bullies, if Buck is being honest. And it was always under the guise of ‘we just want what’s best for you’, but the reality was, they wanted what was best and easiest for them. Always, always about them. 

“So you know exactly what _not_ to do,” he jokes, and it’s worth it to get a smile out of Maddie. 

“You don’t have to see them, you know?” Maddie says. 

He wishes that were true, wishes he could avoid them the whole time they’ll be here. Because while they damaged Maddie too, Buck always got the worst of it. He was the difficult kid, the one who got in trouble and didn’t follow the rules, who was the family screw up. And when Maddie left, well. There was no one to share the brunt of their disappointment with, so Buck had to take it all alone. 

And sometimes he’s still a little hurt by Maddie leaving, and he’ll always be hurt by the ways in which his parents ruined him - _broke_ him. But he won’t let them force their way back into Maddie’s life and try and take over, he won’t let them break the happiness she’s worked and fought for. 

So of course he’s gonna be there, he’ll be there right up until the moment they leave, because Maddie needs him, and he’s never not going to be there for her again. 

“I’ll be there, Mads. I’m always gonna be here.”

She squeezes his hand tightly and tries to discreetly wipe her tears on his shoulder. He keeps his mouth shut because she’s hormonal and he _does_ value his life, despite what a lot of people seem to think. 

“So,” Maddie begins, “what’s going on with you and Eddie?” She asks. 

Buck feels his cheeks begin to flush a little, and his heart rate pick up. He kind of hates her for bringing it up, that moment in Buck’s kitchen that she walked in on - their almost kiss. But they were three beers in and tense after a rough shift, and, well. It didn’t mean anything, anyway. At least not to Eddie. 

“There is no me and Eddie,” Buck tells her. 

She hums quietly, rolls her eyes as she turns her head to look at him. 

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

**+1**

Buck is still shaking, even hours later. His hands tremble as they reach out for a drink, and the water in the glass sloshes against the sides. He puts it down on the counter too roughly, almost shatters it with the force.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s gasping for breath until his vision goes blurry with the lack of oxygen. He grips hold of the edge of the counter, lets his head fall between his shoulders so he can take deep, desperate breaths. And he’s not crying, but that somehow feels like a miracle.

He can’t even close his eyes, because every time he does he’s back there, back in that tiny little apartment with a gun pointing at his head. And he knows it wasn’t really the guy’s fault - he was too high to even know what he was doing - and everyone made it out okay, no one was even hurt, but still. Still. 

Sometimes it feels like the whole fucking world is out to get him, like everything that could possibly go wrong in his life just does. It’s like he’s being punished for something, like the universe has decided he’s done something unforgivable in this life or a past one, and now he has to suffer as much as humanly possible. 

His knuckles are white with how hard he’s been squeezing the counter top and his breathing is still ragged, desperate. He feels weak, pathetic, like he’s falling apart at the seams and he’s barely hanging on by a thread. 

A knock on the door startles Buck so much that he sends the glass of water flying, and it shatters all over the floor. He hisses out a curse, tugs at the still damp curls on top of his head, then carefully tiptoes his way to the door so he doesn’t stand on any glass. 

He’s surprised, when he opens it and Eddie is standing there, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. He smiles when he sees Buck though, and something warms in his chest, just a little.

He clears his throat before speaking. “Hey man, you okay?”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, can I come in?”

Buck wants to say no, he needs some time on his own to push through this, doesn’t need an audience to watch him fall apart. But it’s Eddie, and he’s never been able to say no to him, even if it’s what’s good for him. 

“Sure,” Buck says, holding the door open for him, “just watch the glass.”

“Glass?” Eddie asks. 

Buck laughs awkwardly, “Dropped a glass when I heard you knock.”

He crouches down in the kitchen and carefully starts picking up the shards that litter the floor. He can feel Eddie watching him, knows that there’s something he wants to say, so Buck keeps his mouth shut and waits. The less talking he does, the less he gives away anyway. 

“You feeling a bit jumpy?” Eddie asks. 

Buck shrugs, “Just wasn’t expecting any guests,” he says, looking over his shoulder to flash Eddie a smile. 

“Buck, are you okay?”

The concern in Eddie’s voice is obvious and genuine, and Buck already knows he means for this to be a serious conversation. But he can’t do that. He can’t have a serious conversation because if he does then he has to talk about real things, real _feelings,_ and that’s just too much. If he’s honest about everything, he’s certain that he’d send Eddie running for the hills. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Buck says when he stands up, pieces of glass in hand. 

“Buck listen, you don’t have to pretend,” Eddie argues. 

And he appreciates what Eddie’s trying to do, he really does, but he can’t. He just can’t let his guard down now, because he’s afraid that once it’s down, he’ll never be able to build it back up again. 

He turns to drop the glass in the sink, but as he brushes them off his hand one slices into his palm. 

_”Fuck,”_ he hisses, and Eddie is by his side in a second. 

He doesn’t say anything, just grabs Buck’s hand in his and quickly runs it under the faucet. The water turns pink and Buck bites down hard on his lip, not because it hurts, but because, fuck, _everything_ hurts. Everything hurts and it’s so hard to be brave when you have a gun pointing at your head, when every time you close your eyes there’s a bomb, or a ladder truck, or a tsunami, or _something._

He lets out a breath that sounds more like a sob, and before Eddie even has the chance to say anything, Buck pulls away. He can’t, can’t fall apart like this in front of him, can’t let Eddie see how broken he really is beneath all the jokes and the humour. 

“Buck-“

“I’m fine, so you can - you can go, now,” Buck says, his voice shaking as he wraps dish towel around his bleeding hand. 

He turns his back on Eddie, doesn’t want to see the pity on his face at how much of a mess Buck really is. 

“Buck, you’re not okay,” Eddie says. 

He sounds closer, _feels_ closer, then there’s a hand on Buck’s shoulder turning him around. And when he’s face to face with Eddie, when he can see the tears and the worry in Eddie’s eyes, Buck lets himself break. And Eddie catches him. 

He wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him in close, holds Buck’s head against his neck as he cries and cries, and Eddie doesn’t let go, not even for a second. 

“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispers, “I’ve got you.”

Buck holds on for dear life, winds his arms around Eddie’s waist like if he lets go now, Eddie will slip out of reach forever. But Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away or let go - he rubs gentle circles on Buck’s back and presses his lips to Buck’s tangle of curls. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Buck cries, but Eddie silences him by shaking his head. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Buck argues. 

And he knows exactly what he’s doing because it’s what he always does. He’s trying to push Eddie away now, so it hurts less than if Eddie leaves on his own. 

“It’s okay to be afraid. You don’t have to be brave all the time,” Eddie promises. 

He’s heard that before, from Maddie, but he’s never listened to it, never really believed it. Because he _does._ Someone always needs something from him, always expects or wants something, and he’s okay with that, really, but it means that he always has to be _on._ He can’t have a bad day, he can’t need help, because if he does then the people who need him are left alone. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, “you should go, you shouldn’t-“

“Evan, Evan look at me,” Eddie says, then carefully tilts Buck’s chin upwards so he’s looking at him. 

He’s smiling sadly, and his eyes are soft and warm and _safe._ Buck chokes back another sob. 

“There’s nothing you can say or do that’s gonna make me not want you, okay? Nothing,” Eddie says.

He sounds so gentle and genuine, looks at Buck with eyes filled with love, and acceptance, and not a single shred of disappointment. Buck opens his mouth then closes it again, doesn’t know what he could possibly say in this moment that covers everything he’s feeling. 

“I love you, idiot,” Eddie whispers.

And it’s playful and teasing, but it stops Buck’s heart for just a millisecond. Because Buck knows he has trouble trusting people, knows he’s been hurt too many times to count, but he also knows that Eddie means it. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Buck knows Eddie is telling him the truth. 

“You do?” He asks, just to make sure. 

He knows he sounds afraid, but he’s starting to think that maybe it’s okay, at least with Eddie. 

“Of course I do,” Eddie says.

Then Buck kisses him, because how could he not? And it’s soft and quick, but it’s _everything._

“I’ve got you,” Eddie tells him, their lips brushing together. 

And Buck smiles. Because he’s shaken up right now, traumatised from what just happened and all the memories that it brought up, but that’s okay. He’s allowed to be afraid - Eddie’s got him. 

“I know,” he replies. 

Eddie can be brave enough for the both of them tonight.


End file.
